


A Light Touch

by bottledspirits



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Rumbelle Secret Santa 2012
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 12:52:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2812664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bottledspirits/pseuds/bottledspirits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Midstorm prompted “Belle uses positive reinforcement.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Light Touch

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MidStorm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MidStorm/gifts).



> A very belated posting of my 2012 RSS fic for Midstorm. This has been on my blog for some time, but it was time it made its way here. Happy reading!

The kids in the row in front of them were by far the noisiest, most agitating little brats he’d encountered in an age. In his day, kids had more respect. If they didn’t, they got dragged off by ogres or turned to snails by wizards. He’d seen to that.

But this was not the enchanted forest. Turning a pair of youngsters at the movie theatre into snails – or kittens, he thought as he listened to the teens mewl and twitter at each other, kittens would be far more suitable – would earn him a visit from the sheriff. They might even make him write an apology.

Rumplestiltskin set his jaw and let out a huff. He sat stiffly in the worn seats of the Storybrooke Cinema, trying to ignore the mindless prattle before him. The movie was bad enough, some sappy love story that wasn’t half as engrossing as some of the courtships he’d witnessed in the enchanted forest. Hell, he’d orchestrated half of them.

He risked a glance at the girl beside him. She was watching the movie in rapt attention, utterly oblivious to the rabble. Her eyes were sparkling in the dim light of the theatre. She let out a little gasp at something she saw on the screen, only to bite her lip a moment later.

Curious, he turned to watch the movie he’d only been half-watching. A tall young fellow, all dark hair and broad shoulders, was embracing a petite blonde woman. They were whispering to each other, sweet nothings of the most hackneyed language he’d ever heard.

Rumplestiltskin rolled his eyes. This was what young ladies liked, he supposed. Yet here he was, a graying old man sitting next to a pretty little thing at least half his age, and that was without taking magical immortality into account.

He turned to look at Belle once more and found her attention had not wavered from the screen. One had to admire that kind of concentration. She was watching breathlessly, her chest rising and falling almost imperceptibly. His eyes were drawn to the neckline of her modest blue blouse. He could just make out the uppermost curve of her breasts from where they peeked tantalizingly from the soft folds.

Realizing what he was doing, Rumplestiltskin gave his head a shake, ruffling his hair, and turned away bodily to prevent himself from looking again. He tried to get more comfortable in his seat. First he sat bolt upright, concentrating on sitting as straight as possible. When that only brought an unpleasant sensation in his lower back, he slumped in his seat until he was almost level with the girl beside him.

Belle cast a curious look his way, but only smiled at him and went back to the movie. Rumplestiltskin sighed and forced himself to remain still. He didn’t want to disturb her if she was enjoying herself.

A chorus of giggles broke out from the next row, causing Rumplestiltskin to jump in his seat. Even Belle gave a start at the sudden noise. Rumplestiltskin stifled the urge to lean forward and give the miscreants a well-deserved knock on the head with his cane. He could have sealed their lips shut with magic or poofed them away to some location far, far away, if he’d wanted.

But he didn’t. Belle wouldn’t like it.

Rumplestiltskin crossed his legs and sat back in his seat, putting as much distance between himself and the troublemakers as possible. A touch on his arm made him jump. When he glanced at Belle, she was looking ahead as before, but her arm had moved to rest next to his. He watched as her fingers curled around his hand.

The slight weight of her hand on his was reassuring. Rumplestiltskin gave a relieved sigh and settled more comfortably in his seat. Horny teenagers and corny romance movies be damned, he would enjoy this time with his true love.

All in all, he thought it hadn’t gone too badly. It was a great surprise when Belle pulled him into the alley outside the theatre after the movie.  The snow swirled around them as they stood in the shadow of the theatre. He was alarmed at first, thinking there must be something wrong, but she only settled her mittened hands on his arms and looked up at him, smiling.

“Thank you for coming with me,” Belle said sweetly as flakes of snow dotted her hair. She gave him a sheepish smile and added, “I know this probably isn’t your thing.”

“What, you think dashing boys courting pretty young girls is too far outside my purview?” Rumplestiltskin teased.

She laughed at that, ducking her head as a blush crept across her cheeks. He enjoyed her laugh, low and musical to his ears.

Her eyes stayed on the ground for a moment. Just as he began to worry he’d done something wrong, she looked up at him, still smiling, but her eyes were shining.

“And thank you for not losing your temper in there,” she said, her voice low. “It means a lot to me.”

His face flickered into an awkward grin at her praise. Seeing the expression only made Belle’s own smile widen.

Before he could say anything more, she had bridged the distance between them, standing on tiptoe to brush a kiss against his cheek. He stood stone-still as she did. They had not embraced each other since that awful day she’d almost lost her memories, and neither had dared a kiss. He did not want to break whatever spell was upon them now. He could feel the weight of her hands on his arms, applying gentle pressure as she leaned into him in order to reach, and it felt as though there was a natural gravity between them, bringing them together.

She pulled away slowly. He heard the crunch of snow under her heels as she drew back, watching him with a shy smile ghosting across her features, and she did not relinquish her hold on his arms.

“Walk me home?” she asked.

“As you wish,” he replied, and what else could he have said? He would have walked to the moon and back, if she asked, and there was no way he would leave her to brave this flurry on her own.

Her cheeks dimpled at his words. Belle lowered one of her hands and looked at his arm expectantly. After a moment of starting at her blankly, Rumplestiltskin realized her intentions and unbent his elbow to offer it to her. Belle said nothing, only tucked her arm in his and wrapped her other hand into the crook of his arm.

They walked to the library that way, hardly saying a word, but smiling nonetheless, and he couldn’t have cared less about curious eyes and judging glances in that moment, feeling the warmth of her beside him.

~

Their next date was only slightly more disastrous.

They were sitting in Granny’s awaiting their order of hot cakes and sarcasm – Belle insisted on the sweets, for all that it was already two in the afternoon, and Granny provided the mockery free of charge.

The owner brought their order to the table herself, but not before the doctor – Victor or Whale, whatever he was calling himself now – managed to trip next to Gold, spilling his coffee all over the pawnbroker. Rumplestiltskin hissed as the hot liquid soaked through his suit and met his skin.

“I’m so sorry!” the idiot babbled, grabbing a handful of napkins from the nearest dispenser and rushing at Rumplestiltskin.

The doctor was dangerously close when Rumplestiltskin raised a hand to ward off the man’s help.

“Don’t trouble yourself,” Rumplestiltskin said tersely, aware that every eye pair of eyes in the diner was on them.

The only eyes of interest to him, however, were in the face of the girl opposite him. Belle was watching the scene with anxiety. The moment she caught his glance, however, her gaze settled on him. Rumplestiltskin pressed his lips together irritably. With a wave of a hand, the stains spreading on his suit vanished. He held his hand up in a subdued version of his usual flourish as he turned to Dr. Whale.

“No harm done,” Rumplestiltskin assured the man, though he could not prevent the irritation from creeping into his voice.

The doctor was gaping. He still held the napkins, gripping them rather more tightly than necessary.  

“Ah…right. Thanks. Sorry,” Whale said, backing away from the table. He directed this last at Belle, tearing his gaze from Rumplestiltskin to nod at the girl who sat opposite the spinner. She smiled politely.

Whale left the diner without replacing his coffee. The noise returned to the room, though more subdued than before, and Rumplestiltskin was aware of furtive glances from the other diners. He ignored them and looked to Belle.

“Now, where were we?” he asked pleasantly. He resisted the urge to ask whether he had done well – if she was pleased with how he had responded – but he felt as if he was on pins and needles as he watched her.

Belle said nothing at first, only smiled at him. She reached across the table and laid her hand across his. Her warmth spread through his fingers. Rumplestiltskin smiled at her, feeling shy as a schoolboy, and she gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

The moment was interrupted by the arrival of Granny with their food.

“I’d appreciate less commotion from this table,” the elderly woman quipped as she set the hot cakes down on the table.

Rumplestiltskin opened his mouth to ask what she wanted him to do, set a bloody barrier around the table? But Belle broke in:

“Of course, Granny,” she said, shooting a warning look in his direction. Her grip on his fingers was especially tight as the two ladies watched him, waiting for his response.

“Whatever you say,” Rumplestiltskin said lightly.

He did not look at the woman as he spoke, but she did not go away, so he turned his eyes on her and submitted to her shrewish glare.

After a moment she seemed satisfied, though she made a noise as if she did not believe a word of what he’d said. She turned and went back to the counter. No doubt she planned to watch him like a hawk as long as he was there. He could feel her eyes on him without looking at her.

Letting out a breath, he shifted in his seat so that he could give Belle his full attention. There must have been something amusing in his expression. Belle was watching him with a grin, her lips pressed together as if to keep from laughing.

“That could have gone worse,” she purred, and he dropped his head in embarrassment. Here he was, the Dark One, fawning over praise for good behavior.

“Oh, your hand,” he heard Belle say.

Rumplestiltskin looked up. His hand was still in hers, though she had moved her fingers to reveal a red mark where the coffee had splashed him earlier.

“Oh, it’s–” he began to reassure her, pulling his hand away so he could examine it, but she stopped him, trapping his hand in both her own.

“This should help,” Belle whispered.

 She drew his hand close to her face and pressed her lips to the burn. To his horror, he felt a blush rise in his face. The pain of contact with the injury was nothing in comparison to the sweet feeling in the pit of his stomach as she cradled his hand to her lips.

He was speechless as she lowered his hand. She set it gently on the table and covered it with both of hers.

“Better?” Belle asked, eyes dancing with amusement.

“Y-yes,” Rumplestiltskin sputtered, too caught up in the moment to think of a clever reply.

He could feel the ghost of her lips on his skin, burned as it was, and he found himself thinking it was worth minor injury if that was the regular treatment.

~

Rumplestiltskin visited her at the library, bringing a stack of books under one arm in lieu of the customary roses. He wasn’t about to step into her father’s shop, at any rate, and he had a feeling this bouquet would be better received than any expensive floral arrangement.

There was no one at the circulation desk when he came in. He didn’t mind. The little librarian could often be found poking about the shelves somewhere. He’d pleaded with her not to use the ladder when she was alone, and she’d laughed as she’d given her word.  She never left the desk for very long, in case any eager readers dropped by.

Voices from the room beyond made Rumpelstiltskin look around. He heard loud footsteps approaching and a familiar voice call out, “Careful – don’t trip!”

Rumplestiltskin tightened his grip on his cane and hurried to get out of the way. He was just a moment too late. A small body hurtled around the corner and impacted with the older man. Rumplestiltskin stumbled back from the blow, having taken the brunt of it in his stomach, and felt several books slip from under his arm. They met the floor with a soft clatter.

“Are you all right?” he heard Belle ask as she stepped into the room.

Wincing, Rumplestiltskin looked up to meet her eye and tried to grin. Before her, young Henry Mills was watching him with an expression wavering between concern and utter terror.

“Yes, I’m all right,” Rumplestiltskin said gently.

“Sorry, Mr. Gold,” Henry apologized, hovering anxiously just outside the older man’s reach.

“It’s no matter,” Rumplestiltskin said as he bent to recover the fallen books. He added in as kind a tone as he could manage, “Just try to be more careful next time.”

“I will,” Henry promised immediately.

“And next time, no running in the library,” Belle chirped, the smile on her face showing that she was not entirely in earnest with her warning.

Henry laughed, a breathless sort of chuckle that nonetheless carried in the open space, and Rumplestiltskin could not help but smile at the sound. The boy knelt on the floor and began to help him collect the books.

He took hold of an older volume, leather bound with gold lettering, and read the title with interest. Beside him, Belle had joined them in collecting the books – Gold tried not to stare at the way her dark skirt rode up her thigh as she lowered herself to the floor – and she peered at the book over Henry’s shoulder with unguarded curiosity. It was a collection of short stories that had languished in the back of the pawn shop for ages, too fine to be sold to just anyone. Henry turned it over to examine the scrollwork before handing it to Rumplestiltskin.

“Do you like stories, too?” the boy asked curiously, and Rumplestiltskin could see that his interest was genuine.

“Indeed I do,” Rumplestiltskin replied. He could not help adding, with a somewhat mischievous glint in his eye, “Though my interest is more academic, you see.”

Henry paused to consider his words. From the look on his face, he was not sure if this was a good thing.

“Right…” Henry said slowly. He gave the last book to Belle and stood up, tugging at the straps of the bag that was perpetually slung over his shoulders. “Well, see you later, Belle. Bye, Mr. Gold.”

They said farewell to the boy as he shuffled out of the library, a pensive look on his face. When he’d gone, Gold drew himself up stiffly, struggling to support his weight with his cane and balance his armful of books at the same time. Belle saw him falter and rushed to his side.

“Here,” she said, slipping the books from under his arm.

“Thank you,” Rumplestiltskin said. He straightened his suit and tried not to feel embarrassed. It was hard to be the dashing suitor when he always had to worry about his weak leg.

Belle couldn’t have cared in the least. She was looking over the books she’d taken from him, shuffling them in her arms so she could see the titles.

“Are all these for the library?” she asked with awe.

“Actually, those are from my private collection. I thought you might enjoy them,” Rumplestiltskin replied, pleased with her reaction.

“I’ve never heard of any of these!” Belle mused. She took one of the slimmer volumes of the stack and held it up to read the cover.

“These are some of the more traditional stories of this world. In case you wanted to acquaint yourself with them,” he said hesitantly, suddenly worried that he’d made the wrong choice.

Belle raised her eyes from the book she was examining and looked at him, her lips curling into a smile.

“Thank you,” she said.

Rumplestiltskin fidgeted with his cane. His eyes flickered between her and the floor at his feet, but their expression was one of affection.

“No matter,” he murmured.

Belle grinned at that, as if he’d shared some private joke.

“Would you like a cup of tea?” she offered, and it was his turn to smile.

“Certainly,” Rumplestiltskin said with feigned formality. He adjusted his grip on his cane and said briskly, “After you, my lady.”

She giggled at his manner and went to the door, turning the sign to “Closed” and locking the door in case anyone came by. Few people came by the library at this time of day. Belle led the way to her tiny apartment below the clock tower. The stairs gave them a little trouble, with Rumplestiltskin wondering morbidly which was creaking more – the old stairs or his old bones. Belle did not seem to mind waiting for him, and somehow maintained her pace so that she was always but a few steps ahead of him.

Belle reached the top of the stairs and was opening the door as he shuffled up the last step. She ushered him in and closed the door behind him. Rumplestiltskin paused on the threshold to catch his breath after the climb. He surveyed the room as she set the books on a small table in the corner. He’d only been here a handful of times, once to spend an uncomfortable hour crouching under the sink, trying to stop a rusty pipe from leaking all over the place, and one notable occasion when he’d helped the new librarian capture a very confused owl that had flown into her window in broad daylight. Each time, he’d been too preoccupied to take a measure of his surroundings.

She’d certainly made the most of the place. The dusty space had been transformed, now exuding the same peaceful energy that its occupant did. In one corner, the tiny stove had been polished to a shine, and a bright red kettle sat atop it. A pot of daisies stood in the window. Soft white curtains allowed in the last of the afternoon light. Books were stacked below the window, just in reach of a worn armchair. The bed had been carefully made, the covers tucked in at the corners in the exact way he remembered her doing in the Dark Castle.

He tore his eyes from the bed and began to remove his jacket. The stairs had left him a touch warmer than he liked. Once his jacket was off, Rumplestiltskin set it on the counter and bent to rub his knee.

“You’re sure you’re not hurt?” Belle asked, looking at him with concern.

“Yes, love,” Rumplestiltskin said absently. The endearment slipped out unheeded.

“You did take quite a blow,” Belle reminded him, a touch of amusement in her voice as she took his jacket.

Rumplestiltskin chuckled.

“I suppose I did. But it’ll take more than one energetic boy to take me down,” he said.

She paused in the middle of setting his jacket on the table, her hand resting absently on the fine cloth. When she turned, she had the same soft look in her eyes as she had when she’d pulled him into the alley after their movie date.

“You’re nicer to him than you are to everyone else,” Belle said gently, stepping next to him.

“Except you,” he murmured.

Belle smiled at that, ducking her head shyly to stare at his sleeve. When she saw his hands, her eyebrows went up, and she reached out to touch him.

“Your burns are gone,” she said, grasping his arm and turning over his hand.

“Ah, yes…” Rumplestiltskin said awkwardly, his heart racing at the contact. He gently loosed himself from her grip and pulled up the sleeves of his shirt to show his arms, no burns in sight.

“See?” he said proudly, grinning boyishly as he held his arms up for her inspection. His smile was just a tad too wide to be natural.

Belle looked closely at the bared skin, saying nothing. Rumplestiltskin began to feel nervous under her silent scrutiny. All his worries about his inadequacy as a man and her true love rose in his mind, unbidden and unpleasant.

“And the others?” Belle broke the silence, her tone somber. She looked up him with eyes full of concern, and something else he could not identify. At least, if he could, he dared not admit it.

“Others?” Rumplestiltskin asked, transfixed by her gaze.

She reached up and laid a hand across his chest.

“Here,” she said, running a finger across the smooth material.

“Belle…” he breathed, unable to believe she was asking what he thought she was.

But she stared back at him, unwavering.

“I’d like to know that you’re taking care of yourself,” she said, her voice the only sound in the room. “Now that you don’t have anyone to look after you. Please?”

She said the last with such pleading that he could not refuse her. Sighing, Rumplestiltskin drew back, leaned his cane against the table, and began to unbutton his shirt.

“As you wish,” he said, staring fixedly at his hands as he attempted to quell the unsteady feeling in his stomach.

Once the last button was done, he looked up at her uncertainly, not sure what to do next. His fingers fidgeted on the edge of his shirt. Belle did not meet his eyes as she reached forward, parting the fabric to press her fingertips to his skin.

“Here?” she asked, touching just over his heart.

He was not sure what she was asking, but it hardly mattered, for Belle bent forward before he could reply and gently placed a kiss on his chest, his heartbeat thrumming faintly on her lips.

“B-belle,” Rumplestiltskin stammered, breaking away and taking her arms in order to hold her at a distance. His mind was racing, every logical part of him providing reasons for why this was a bad idea, why he should go now before anything else started, while something else urged him to stay.

She looked up at him, unalarmed, and set her hands on his.

“Are you afraid?” Belle asked, in the kind of voice one would use to coax a frightened animal, and there was barest trace of doubt in her eyes as she watched his face flicker into its old familiar expression of anxiety.

He could not speak for a moment, though he wished he could say no, he was not afraid. But he couldn’t lie to her.

“Yes,” he whispered, his hands trembling under hers.

She gave his fingers a squeeze and gazed up at him with the fondness that always made him wonder how he’d won her heart.

“Do you want a bit of my courage?” she said as she pressed herself closer, his arms offering no resistance.

He nodded dumbly, wanting her valor as much as her warmth, and at that moment he would have allowed her to cut out his heart, if she’d wanted.

Belle reached up and ran her fingers through his hair, the slightest tug bringing his face closer to hers.

“Then stay with me,” she breathed against his ear.

Their lips met, and unlike the chaste peck she’d given him in the alley, or the affectionate brush of her lips he’d received in the diner, this kiss as passionate as any they’d ever had. Her lips worked against his, gentle but persistent, until he parted his lips and allowed her tongue to delve into his mouth.

He was dimly aware of her hands pressing against his chest, and he stepped back to accommodate her until his legs met something soft. Rumplestiltskin’s eyes blinked open just as Belle began to push him onto the bed.

They parted to catch their breath and he stared at her in wonder as she moved to straddle his waist. She smiled at him, her lips flush from the exertion, and the light from the window behind her lit her hair in such a way that the slight woman above him seemed to glow.

“I’ve…wanted something like this for…a very long time,” Belle confided, biting her lip in sudden shyness.

He reached up and brushed his hands up her arms, drawing her down to him.

“Then you shall have it,” Rumplestiltskin said softly.

She smiled and brought her hands to his shoulders to anchor herself on the bed. Slowly, he moved one hand from her arm touched her thigh, tracing patterns on her skin as he gradually brought his fingers to tease the hem of her skirt.

~

It was surprising how comfortably two people could rest in the small bed, but considering her diminutive frame and his own slight build, Rumplestiltskin supposed he should consider himself lucky. Had they been any bigger, they would not be able to stay in the bed together, languidly enjoying the peace of the moment.

He felt Belle get up from the bed. At first he was afraid she meant to get dressed, but a gentle tug at the blanket made him realize she only wanted to get under the covers. Rumplestiltskin obligingly rolled toward the edge of the bed, tugging the blankets from under him as he moved. When he had them, he raised the covers and rolled back under them, settling into his former position once more. He held them up for her, but she did not join him. Instead, there came the creak of the floorboards as she knelt by the bed.

“Rumplestiltskin?” she whispered beside him.

He was wavering on the edge of sleep and answered her with a sleepy “Hmm?” Belle brushed some of his hair out of his face and leaned toward him, so close they were almost touching.

“Do you love me?” she asked, her voice barely audible.

There was a pause, in which neither of them spoke. Unseen by her, one of his hands clutched at the sheets, drawing them so tight that a more delicate fabric might tear. He released the cloth slowly, so gently that it made no sound.

“Love you,” he whispered fervently, his voice rough with more than sleep.

It was all she needed to hear. Belle crept back into the bed and curled into his side, smiling when he drew a hand around her and covered her with the blankets, and she pressed a kiss to his temple.

“And I love you, too,” she said, her lips hovering just over his skin. She spoke so quietly that he probably could have felt her breath better than he could hear her words, but he knew what she said and brought his arm around her more tightly in response.

They stayed like that for some time, the evening sun pouring over them through the sheer curtains as they slipped into sleep, still wrapped in each other’s arms.


End file.
